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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814917">Uhhh It's ya boy, Childhood Trauma.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opowossum/pseuds/Opowossum'>Opowossum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Eddsworld - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Slow Burn, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, not yet but soon, paul is a frat boy, trans paul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:14:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opowossum/pseuds/Opowossum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pat is a college drop out, attempting to fit in now that he's come back after a break. He's no match for Tord's horrendous shitty super-booze cocktail. </p>
<p>But Paul is nice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patryck/Paul (Eddsworld)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Uhhh It's ya boy, Childhood Trauma.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was how college was supposed to be, right? Wild, crazy, blackout drunk, right?<br/>Then why with every sip of swill did his chest burn, head feeling more and more like a plane in a tailspin, heading down to the ground? The bump of the music pulsating in his chest, it was too much. Too much. He could feel someone grinding on his ass in the blindness of the neon lights and flashes of dark when they strobed. </p>
<p>Patryck was going to throw up. </p>
<p>Shoving the offending frat boy away, the college freshman stumbled his way, blindly, to the bathroom before losing whatever shitty pizza he’d ingested before they’d brought in the booze to the party. Retching, he tried in vain to pull his hair back, eyes squeezed shut as the world spun. It was like being on one of those shitty UFO rides and begging to get off, but no matter how hard you pulled on the straps, it held you fast and still.</p>
<p>Damn, he should have been a writing major. The thought made him laugh mid-gag, causing him to fall into a flurry of choked coughs.<br/>”...You need to go to home, dude?” Someone spoke behind him. Or above him, rather, voice dulled by the sound of something gritted in between his teeth. </p>
<p>With bleary, red eyes, Patryck looked up, coughing enough to expel a little more of the burning bile out from his lungs. He lauged again, casting a crooked smile at the rough looking sophomore who gazed down at him with a pitying expression. <br/>“No, I’m fine. Just. Can’t hold my liquor as well as I thought. I’m a shame to the whole of Polish Catholics.” He croaked, throat still burning from it all. It still felt like pure acid clawing the back of his throat, and he shook his head.</p>
<p>“Did you drink the punch? Because Tord made that, and if you drank it like normal liquor, I’m not surprised in the slightest you lost your lunch.” The man, stubbly and unshaven, stepped beside Patryck, filling a glass with water from the tap before handing it to Pat. </p>
<p>“Technically it was dinner, but time kind of ceases to exist when you’re an adult, I guess.” Patryck graciously took the cup, using the first sip to spit the remaining bile out of his mouth and back into the porcelain hell-chamber, flushing his mess away with a grimace. Why was it always red when frat boys made punch? Didn’t they know throwing up red booze was possibly the worst experience ever?<br/>“Smartass. This your first party?”<br/>“You’re nosey.”<br/>“What can I say? I like knowing who vomited in my toilet.”</p>
<p>The phrase caused Pat to go flush with embarrassment, dark eyes looking up at him anxiously, before they both seemed to burst into a fit of laughter.<br/>“But no, really, I’m not mad. I figured someone would be in here by the end of the night. I’m just glad you didn’t steal my toothpaste.”<br/>“Someone’s stolen your toothpaste?” <br/>“Three times. It’s not like it’s hard to come by, but why toothpaste?” Paul cackled, offering the freshman a hand, which Pat took with a shaking grip, standing on sore knees. </p>
<p>“Come on. Let’s get you sitting down. What’s your name, dude?” The thing between the man’s squared teeth turned out to be a crumpled cigarette. Maybe he’d been on his way to smoke it when he heard Patryck borderline dying in the john. <br/>“Ugh. Uh. My name is. Patryck.” The freshman followed Paul to his room, which was plainly decorated, but cleaner than one would expect. <br/>“Warshawski? I have calc with you, actually. I’m Paul.” Paul hummed, sitting Pat down on his bed. Poor guy looked like he’d need to crash somewhere for the night. <br/>Patryck’s eyes widened, the anxiety of having embarrassed himself on a first meeting clawing at his throat almost more than the booze-induced puke session had. Great.<br/>Paul shook his head, laughing as he took a seat in the rolling computer chair by his desk, waving his hands in reassurance. </p>
<p>“You’re fine. Don’t look so freaked out. Seriously. Everyone pukes at their first party.”<br/>“Th-this isn’t my first party.”</p>
<p>That made Paul’s brow raise, one thick bush cocked above higher than the other. “Not your first one? Or just your first college party?”<br/>“N...not my first one either. I uh. I was a drop out. I tried to go to another school.” </p>
<p>Well now the words were all coming out. Great. This was just a great fucking night. <br/>“I-I used to go to parties like this all the time. I mean. Not all the time. But a lot. Um. Shit--” <br/>Paul cut him short, shaking his head again. “Dude. Seriously. It’s fine. I don’t care if you’re a dropout. Most folks here will do the same, I mean, have you seen our rates?” He cackled, reaching into his mini fridge and pulling out a mesh bag of babybel cheeses.</p>
<p>He tossed one to the man on his bed, watching as the freshman raised his brow inquisitively at him. <br/>“It’s for your stomach. Seriously, if you don’t eat something now, you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning.”<br/>“I already hate myself”<br/>“Har har. Eat the fucking cheese.” Paul snorted, pulling the wrapper off of his own cheese, then tearing open the wax. </p>
<p>Pat could feel the exhaustion creeping into his bones, but he obliged, blinking away his sleepiness as he nibbled at the cheese.</p>
<p>And then he was asleep, conked out between the sunset colored comforters on Paul’s bed as the sunrise grew over the treeline outside the window. Paul gave another half laugh, pulling a knit blanket over the freshman before moving to the couch in the living room.</p>
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